Kite

Gentleness of a touch,

Or harshness of a voice, 

Blinding light or darkest night

I feel like a kite in the city lights.

Flying and twisting around concrete homes,

Twirling like a ballerina,

Or those bright strobes on stripper poles,

My past and future black like Lapland coals.

Maybe I feel I'm growing old?

Eighteen and spiraling through the street fights, 

A kite the only thing I can be like, 

Life is drole, 

But the wind still rolls,

And the kite does as its told, 

But I don't.